Scratch the Surface

He was growling, and I loved it.

“And the place we live in is nuts, so you better get on board with cooking for potlucks.”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“And we can drive down on the weekends and help your mother redecorate.”

“She’ll like that.”

He took a breath. “I am crazy about you. I have been since I first laid eyes on you, when I couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening and why I didn’t wanna leave you.”

I could only hold his gaze.

“I’ve never loved anyone either, but I know that’s what this is because I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Everything went quiet, the street, the people passing us; my world tunneled down to Jeremiah and his words.

“I love you. You’re all I want.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, the tears of no consequence because he was hugging me back.

No one believed in love at first sight anymore, but if you thought about it, wasn’t that where love began? Didn’t love start as attraction, or interest, or lust, or admiration? Eyes met and something sparked, or it didn’t, caught fire, or it didn’t. I burned and smoldered for him even when we were apart, which informed the bigger truth—I was head over heels in love. I wouldn’t miss out on what we could be simply because I was too frightened to take a chance, and wonder of wonders, neither would he. On the surface, our differences seemed vast, but all you had to do was look a bit deeper to see the truth. Jeremiah Wolfe and I were two of a kind.

He loved me. I loved him. It was inevitable from the moment I first laid eyes on him, and wasn’t that amazing.

17

Jeremiah

Once we were done sorting out the rest of our lives together, Cameron and I returned to his acquaintances—they definitely weren’t his friends—and he apologized for making them wait. I was honestly surprised they had stuck around. I certainly wouldn’t have.

“Well, I just––” Derek stopped, glanced at the others, but none of them moved, all of them waiting. “Could you guys––”

“For God’s sake, tell the man you’re sorry,” one of the men urged, “and that you know Troy’s a piece of shit.”

Derek, who was handsome in that model way, like guys you saw in magazines or in fake bro-bonding liquor commercials that came on during sporting events, crossed his arms as he looked at Cameron.

“Wait, you guys didn’t get married?” Cameron asked him.

One of the women snorted, and one of the men made a retching noise, and Derek scowled at both of them before he was back to facing my boyfriend.

“Did he cheat on you too?”

“He did,” Derek admitted, “yes.”

There was an awkward silence, and I understood, because honestly, what was Cameron supposed to say?

I tried really hard not to make a sound, but we stood there too long and the snort finally popped out of me. “Troy sounds like a real winner,” I announced.

After a second, both Cameron and Derek turned to look at me.

“What? He does.”

Derek was not amused—it might have been a bit too soon—but Cameron snickered before reaching out to take my hand.

“I’m sorry to cut this short,” Cameron lied, because I knew he was done. “But Thanksgiving festivities start early at the Gallagher house. We have to be there for breakfast. My mother’s making her world-famous biscuits and gravy, all from scratch, and we’re expected before the wave of people arrive.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Yet another one of the women moaned almost wistfully. “Your parents host that lovely Thanksgiving open house every year, and feed everyone from lunch to dinner. I remember when Troy invited us.”

“That’s right,” he clipped.

I noticed he didn’t bother extending even one of them an invitation, but why would he? They were going skiing instead of being with their families. It wasn’t my place to judge any of them for that choice, I had no idea what their circumstances were, but I had the opportunity to spend the weekend with Cameron’s family, and I would not have traded that for anything.

“So I’ll say goodnight, and I hope you all have fun on your trip.” He grabbed my hand, and before anyone could say another word, he began walking, tugging me after him. We were halfway to the corner again before Derek ran up on his left.

“Cam.”

He stopped, breathed out through his nose, and looked at Derek.

“Would it be all right if I gave you a call?”

“To what end, Derek? You were never my friend. If you were, you wouldn’t have had sex with my boyfriend.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But Troy always said there was no passion between you, and I convinced myself he was telling the truth. He had me duped into believing that you didn’t love him, not like I did, and––”

“It’s no excuse,” Cameron apprised him, “but it’s also ancient history. In retrospect, I wish you would have both come clean before that night. Who knows, if nothing else, our friendship, yours and mine, might have survived the fallout.”